


you fill my head with you

by carrythesky



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Flowers, Kissing, Romance, rated a soft 'm' for implied sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrythesky/pseuds/carrythesky
Summary: There’s something about the way the city feels just before dawn, already restless and humming with potential energy. A new day—anything can happen.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Karen Page
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	you fill my head with you

**Author's Note:**

> this prompt has been sitting in my inbox for a truly embarrassing amount of time, but hey, better nine million years late than never right

Karen is used to waking up with the sun. Even before the Bulletin, before she was chasing down stories over cups of days-old coffee, eyes itchy with exhaustion as night bled into morning, even then it was just something she did. She’s never slept easy.

She doesn’t mind, though. There’s something about the way the city feels just before dawn, already restless and humming with potential energy. A new day—anything can happen.

.

There’s a bouquet of flowers on her desk at work. Roses—every last one of them white. Karen blinks at them, then bites her lip to cage the laugh that’s working its way up her throat.

He’s consistent, at least. She’ll give him that.

She can see a small piece of paper tied to one of the stems, and her pulse kicks up a notch. She remembers with stinging clarity what he told her in that hospital room, how resolute his rejection had been. Another door, slammed in her face. She should be furious with him, and she is, but—

But. Another part of her remembers light across water and his lips pressed to the hollow of her cheek, a stalled-out elevator and silence thick with all the words they couldn’t say to each other. Gunshots, his hands in her hair and the weight of him pressing her to the floor.

She trusts him. Always has, even when it didn’t make sense to. She still does.

The thought propels her forward, fingers grasping the note and eyes hastily scanning the words written there. There’s a familiar address, and beneath that:

_Taking your advice._

.

He’s sitting on one of the benches when she gets there. She has to squint a bit against the sun, but there he is, one leg bouncing slightly and his hands clasped loosely at his knees. He’s staring across the water, away from her.

He looks the same. He looks like Frank.

“I have a phone, you know,” Karen says, and his head snaps in her direction. He stands as she approaches, one hand rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that’s achingly familiar.

“Wasn’t sure you wanted to see me,” he says.

Karen meets his gaze. His eyes are as dark as she remembers, but there’s something else, a softness she hasn’t seen before. It makes her heart clench, all her resolve and quiet anger dissolving on her tongue. Before she can talk herself down, she’s surging forward and pulling him into a hug.

He’s warm, solid in her arms. Karen’s pulse flutters when his hands slide around her waist. His touch is hesitant, careful—like he’s afraid he’ll hurt her. She holds him a bit tighter.

“And now?” she asks, voice muffled slightly where her mouth is pressed to his shoulder.

She feels it when he smiles, his lips curving against her temple. “Still all heart, huh?”

They pull away at the same time, slowly. She still can’t quite believe that this is real, that he’s standing here with her, his face free of bruises and a wry grin tugging the corners of his mouth. It’s honestly more than she thought she would ever get again.

She says as much, sliding onto the closest bench. “What changed, Frank?”

“Me,” he admits. “Didn’t wanna admit it, but—I was tired. All my bullshit—I was tired of all of it. Started thinking about Lisa and Junior—if they could see me, Karen—“

She reaches for his hand, squeezes gently.

“You were right, yeah?” he says. “What you said, about life. How we’re just fighting not to be alone. Figured I was fighting for all the wrong shit.”

Her heart is in her throat. She hopes she isn’t imagining the look on his face, raw and vulnerable. Hopes she isn’t making something more out of this than what’s really there. She trusts him, yes—against her better judgment—but he’s pushed her away more than once. She needs to know that this means something.

“Frank—“ she starts to say at the same moment her phone alarm trills. He gently pulls his hand away, and she knows she isn’t imagining the way the pad of his thumb lingers on her wrist. She wants to reach for him again—instead, she fishes out her phone. She’s late for a meeting with a source, and she’s already rescheduled once.

“Work,” she says, trying to veil her disappointment. “I should probably go.”

Frank’s lips twitch. “Look forward to readin’ about it on the front page.”

“Shut up,” she says, but she’s smiling.

He glances down as she stands, then tilts his head to catch her eyes again. He looks like he wants to say something, lips slightly parted and his eyes on her, unflinching. It’s a stark contrast to the last time they were here, when he was still fighting his war, still scared. He’d walked away first—showing her he cared, the only way he knew how. He’s not walking away now.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says, more a statement than a question.

Frank’s eyes soften. “Soon,” he echoes.

It almost sounds like a promise.

.

He’s outside her apartment a week later, a bag of groceries in hand.

Karen huffs a laugh. “So, when you said you wanted to do dinner—“

She says it lightly enough, but she doesn’t miss the frown that flickers across his face, there and gone the next moment. “This okay?” he asks, and something twinges in her chest.

“Frank. I’ve been living off of ramen and wine for the past week. It’s more than okay.” She’s hoping that will pull a smile out of him, and it does. She’s suspended in the moment, the easy way his mouth creases into a crooked grin. Frank Castle, happy. She could get used to that.

He makes himself at home in the kitchen in a way that should be surprising, but isn’t. Karen can picture him cooking dinner for his family just as easily as he handles a gun. She knows better than most that Frank is more than what people say he is.

Before long, he’s got a pot of spaghetti boiling on one burner and vegetables sautéing on another, filling the room with a savory aroma. Karen’s not even a little embarrassed when her stomach rumbles in appreciation.

They eat on her couch. Neither of them says much, but the silence is comfortable. That’s something she’s always liked about Frank—he doesn’t talk for the sake of it. His words have weight, when he chooses them.

He refuses to let her take care of the dishes—“still old-fashioned, I see,” she jabs—so Karen settles back onto the couch, not quite sure what to do with herself. She’s been on her own for so long, she’s forgotten what it feels like to have someone else in her space—especially when that someone is the Punisher, making her dinner and cleaning her dishes. She casts a glance over her shoulder to see him forearms-deep in soapy water, scrubbing at a stubborn spot on one of the pans.

If someone had told her a week ago that this is how she’d be spending her evening, she would have laughed right in their face.

It’s still light outside, and warm for this time of year, so she grabs two beers and leads him up to her building’s roof. The sun is low in the sky, turning the clouds to cotton-candy. Familiar sounds fill her ears, the rush of traffic, horns blaring.

Karen turns to face Frank, holding up her beer. “To a delicious dinner that covered all the food groups,” she says. “My arteries thank you.”

Frank clinks his bottle against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Seriously, Frank. That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

“Yeah?” He looks at his feet, shifting his weight slightly. “I’m glad. Uh—not that you haven’t had a good meal, but—you know. Glad to help.” He blows out a breath. “ _Christ_.”

“Easy, soldier,” Karen says, nudging him with her elbow. “Take a breath. You’re doing just fine.”

He glances sidelong at her, smirking. “Didn’t think I’d be this nervous to see you again. I feel like a goddamn teenager.”

“It’s me, Frank. I don’t bite.”

He bobs his head, then tips his drink back. Quiet envelops them again, but there’s a tension to it this time, an undercurrent of nerves.

“Can I ask you something?” she finally says.

“Shoot.”

Karen’s stomach churns. A warning sign, maybe, but she pays it no heed. “At the hospital,” she says slowly, tasting each word. “If Amy hadn’t walked in on us—what were you going to do?”

She isn’t looking at him, but she can feel his eyes on her like a brand. Warmth stirs low in her gut. _So make it mean something_.

He moves closer, reaching to take the beer from her hands. She’s dimly aware of him setting the bottles on the ground, and then he’s touching her, thumb sweeping the line of her jaw. He’s close enough that she can see the creases in the corner of his eyes, a faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks. His eyes dart to her lips.

“Frank,” she breathes, and then his mouth is on hers.

His lips are softer than she expects. She hums low in her throat, arms sliding around his neck to pull him closer. The world narrows to her pulse in her ears, the jagged hitch of Frank’s breath when he pulls back to look at her.

“That answer your question?” he rasps.

She ghosts her lips over his, once, twice. “I need some clarification on a few points.”

Frank grins and kisses her again. His tongue swipes her lower lip, hungry but not demanding, and heat fissures up her spine. She’s wanted this for so long—wanted _him_ —and her heart thuds painfully beneath her ribs as she deepens the kiss. Her hands skate the side of his face and she buries her fingers in his hair, tugging just hard enough to sting.

He breaks away, his mouth trailing a line of fire from her jawline down the column of her throat. Karen gasps, letting her neck fall back. Somehow, he’s positioned her so that her back is against the building—both hands cradle her neck as he presses against her. Her hands are everywhere, sliding down his chest and grasping his waist. She never wants to stop touching him.

Her fingers drop to his pants, fumbling with the zipper, and Frank’s mouth comes crashing fervently back to hers. His fingers dig into her hips, tugging her skirt up so it’s around her waist. Then his hand slips below the fabric and skims the inside of her thigh. Her entire body spasms.

“Shit,” he hisses, dropping his head to the juncture of her shoulder. “We shouldn’t—not here—“

“I have a perfectly good bed downstairs,” she gasps, breathless.

His eyes shutter. “ _Fuck,_ Karen.” He tips his forehead to rest against hers. “You sure about this?”

Her heart is so full she thinks it might burst from her chest. She presses a whisper-soft kiss to his cheek, threads their hands together. “Two hands, right?”

This time, he doesn’t let go.

.

Karen wakes to darkness and an empty bed.

The sheets are tangled between her legs, cool against her bare skin. She draws them around her as she sits up. The other side of the bed is still warm. She sucks in a breath as pieces of the previous night spin behind her eyes like a kaleidoscope—Frank laying her down, his body above, beneath, around her.

Karen untangles herself from the sheets carefully, then feels around the room for her clothes. There’s a trail of discarded garments going down the hallway, and she flushes. They hadn’t quite made it to her bedroom, the first time. She gropes around in the dark until she finds something that feels like a shirt, and it’s only when she’s pulling it over her head that she realizes it’s Frank’s.

The grey of early morning presses behind her living room window, casting fractured shadows across the floor. Karen doesn’t see him on the couch or in the kitchen. Her pulse skips a beat. If he left without saying goodbye—

She’s giving the room another sweeping glance when she spots his silhouette on the fire escape. Grinning despite herself, she opens the window and crawls through to join him.

He’s perched on the balcony, wrapped in the throw blanket from her couch. “Hey,” he says when he sees her, voice gravelly with sleep. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

She shakes her head. “I’m an early-riser. I think the last time I slept past six a.m. was when I was in school.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She shuffles closer and Franks spreads an arm wide, draping half of the blanket over her shoulders as she settles beside him. The city is quiet, but there are stirrings of life—lights flicking on in apartments across the street, the rattle of a metal security gate as the bakery below opens up for the day. The sky above them is still dark, but the horizon blushes pink and indigo.

A new day. Anything could happen.

She’s not sure how long she stares out across the city, but she jolts a little when Frank’s lips brush softly against her temple.

“Easy,” he says, his breath warm on her skin. “I don’t bite.”

“Using my own words against me,” she murmurs, tilting her head to capture his mouth in a soft kiss. She starts to pull back, but he slides a hand around her neck and kisses her deeper, all heat and urgency. They’re both panting when they break apart.

“Nice shirt,” he says. “Looks good on you.”

“I swear to God, if you’re about to say it would look better on my floor—“

He tips his head back and laughs, and Karen swears it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard. She’s momentarily lost in it, the effortless sound of his happiness. It’s enough to make her heart crack in half.

She doesn’t realize she’s staring until he nudges her gently. “Hey—you okay?”

Karen lays her palm on his chest. “Your ‘after’—I always pictured something like this.”

“What—me sitting half-naked on your fire escape?”

She smirks. “You, happy. The half-naked thing is a bonus.”

Frank slides an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close. “I pictured you.”

“Now _that’s_ a line,” Karen says, curling up next to him. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to feeling like this, buoyant with happiness.

But that’s a question for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "bloom" by the paper kites
> 
> this fic is also rebloggable on [tumblr!](https://carry-the-sky.tumblr.com/post/634876007322648577/crashing-in-a-million-years-late-to-fill-the) thank you so much for reading! :)


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